Night Changes Everything
by SayaLeigh
Summary: France stops by one night, surprising Romano with things he doesn't mind hearing.


**A/N:** This is only the second time I've written smut and honestly I didn't do a lot of revising, but I wanted to do something for this ship. If you notice anything weird, I'd really appreciate the heads up.

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><p><strong>[TEXT]<strong> I'm coming over.

That was all the warning Romano got before there was a knock on his door. He hesitated a moment before answering—it had been a while since France had been to his place, and they weren't exactly the type to hang out like old friends. That, and given the lack of warning, his place looked like…well, his place.

Seeing a grinning France hold up a bottle of wine, however, he couldn't bring himself to regret his decision. Sighing dramatically, he took a step back to admit the Frenchman.

"I thought that would work," France told him with a grin.

"Shut up and get in here," Romano grumbled, rolling his eyes. He wondered if he was seeing things or if France's eyes had really just trailed up and down his body.

"So, I heard there were Christmas specials on just about every channel tonight," the Frenchman commented, his blue eyes sparkling, "Shall we watch, or is that too childish for you?"

Romano wasn't sure if he was being mocked or not. Still, the words had that effect, and the Italian bristled irritably.

"Of course it's not 'too childish!'" he snapped, stomping into the living room and turning on the TV, "I'm not some fucking Scrooge, you know."

France's only response was a light chuckle as he followed Romano. At some point he'd produced a pair of elegant glasses, and Romano wondered if he'd really brought them all the way from France. It wasn't like he didn't have his own, so…no, those were his. How did France know where he kept them?

Quickly deciding that the questions were too much trouble to even ask, the grumpy Italian slumped onto his couch and stared blankly at the screen as he waited for France to pour the wine for them.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" the Frenchman asked, raising a brow as he took a seat next to the brunet and handed over one of the glasses.

"Does it look like it?" Romano snapped in return, trying not to feel too miserable about the bleak emptiness of his holiday schedule.

France bit back a sigh, though it was still obvious enough to make Romano's hackles rise. He didn't need the blond's pity or anything, dammit!

Before he could answer, France's soft comment cut him off. "I'm glad. If you were busy, I would have to wait to see you, non?"

Romano stared at him for a moment, eyes wide. It took several long minutes to process the comment, but then he snorted, trying to ignore the flush of his own cheeks.

"What do you want, anyway? No way you'd willingly put yourself in my company."

The tiny grin in France's voice was obvious in France's voice when he replied, leaning close enough that his sweet breath brushed tantalizingly over the shell of Romano's ear.

"Ah, but I would, mon ami. Don't you know how lovely your company is?"

Romano could feel the familiar, bright red flush spread over his face and neck, and he shrank down as he took another sip of wine. The clear glass didn't do much to hide his expression, but it was something.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he scowled once he'd regained some semblance of control. France just chuckled softly, the rumble of his voice sending shivers down Romano's spine, and leaned back again.

"If you say so, mon chaton," France replied in a singsong tone. Lovino decided not to ask about the nickname tacked onto the end—knowing the blond, he was sure he wouldn't like it.

They fell silent again, watching the movie. Romano hadn't had any real interest when they turned it on, but as the movie played, he found himself being drawn in by the story. They moved on to their second glasses of wine, Romano's temper mellowing with the flow of alcohol. It wasn't that he particularly disliked France, whose company was infinitely better when he kept his mouth shut, but more that the Italian was never sure when something embarrassing would happen. France wouldn't tease him if it was something really bad, but even his kind words had a way of getting under Romano's skin that no one else's did.

"I had another reason for coming here tonight," France admitted softly, his eyes still on the screen as the couple in the cheesy TV movie kissed.

Romano scoffed, his lip curling again. He still didn't turn to the other man, hoping to hide as much disappointment as he could when he spoke.

"Of course you did. What is it, a date with Veneziano? I'm not setting you up."

"Non, of course not," France replied quickly, even going so far as to roll his eyes, "I'd much prefer to date you. While your brother is cute, I do not think I could love him the way I already love you."

Romano froze, sure he couldn't possibly be hearing this right. His eyes were wide, locked blankly on the screen despite all his attention being fixed on the man next to him. More cautious now—Romano didn't think he'd ever heard him so hesitant-the Frenchman continued.

"Perhaps we could go to that Christmas party next week? Or if you're more comfortable being physical than emotional, I could take you to bed tonight…"

Romano stared at the blond, stunned by his offer. Those blue, blue eyes were fixed on him in return, bright and earnest and yearning. Romano's breath caught in his throat.

"I'm going to need more alcohol for that," Romano commented finally, half-joking and hiding his face behind the wine glass. Rather than making France chuckle and lightening the mood, his comment made the blond frown.

"I couldn't do that, Romano," the Frenchman replied seriously, reaching out and taking the Italian's hand gently, "I wouldn't sleep with you unless it was of your own free will and you were fully conscious, mon cher."

Romano swallowed hard, silenced again. He could see his hand trembling in France's grip, but he didn't pull it away.

"Why?" he asked finally, his voice soft and slightly raspy. His glanced up at the blond man again, his wide eyes betraying his nervousness and fear that he was being played. France smiled reassuringly, running his thumb lightly over the back of Romano's darker hand.

"You're beautiful, Romano," France murmured, "You always have been, even with your foul mouth and your insecurities. I want to make you see how beautiful you are and how much you can be loved."

Romano's cheeks flushed and he dropped his gaze, avoiding that strange, adoring look France had fixed him with. He closed his fingers over France's, downing the rest of his drink.

"I…I want to," he replied seriously, swallowing hard, "I just…I don't…You must have a lot of options, right? So…"

France laughed, gently tugging Romano's arm to draw him closer. Romano went, though he couldn't even justify it to himself. France settled the Italian on his lap, wrapping one arm around his waist and brushing the other's soft brunet hair back with his other hand.

"Romano…How many times do I have to say it?" he asked softly.

His lips were so close…His breath was warm and sweet, making Romano's head spin the way it might if he'd had a lot more of that wine. The Italian gave in to his desire, leaning in and pressing a hesitant kiss to the Frenchman's lips.

France returned it eagerly, pulling Romano closer. The brunet shifted in his lap, pressing France against the back of the sofa as his confidence grew. He could feel the blond smirk against his lips, but before he could pull back, France held his head in place gently.

Romano wasn't paying attention to his other hand, at least until he slid his palm up the Italian's stomach. His hands were cooler than the brunet's warm skin, making Romano gasp and squirm slightly. He pulled away, turning his head slightly in an attempt to hide his expression and the bright red blush crawling up his neck.

"France…" he murmured, his tone going slightly whiny when the Frenchman chuckled.

"Make that sound again," France breathed against his neck, kissing the soft skin there. The Italian whined softly, his head falling back to expose more. The Frenchman was in awe of the darker-skinned man's reactions, and he let his finger's trail up to brush Romano's nipples lightly to see what that would earn him.

A tiny, breathy moan, apparently.

"Y-you're enjoying this," Romano accused, barely managing a weak glare as he looked down at France.

"Aren't you?" the blond countered, his smile devious but his eyes honest. Romano didn't have a comeback for that; instead, he leaned down to kiss France again.

The Frenchman set about unbuttoning the Italian's shirt slowly, his focus more on their lips and intertwined tongues than his invading hands. Romano let him continue, carding his fingers lightly through the soft blond locks. Their actions were unhurried, as if both nations reveled in being so close to the other. For a moment, France dared to hope that Romano might feel the same way that he himself did.

"W-wait," Romano panted, pulling away suddenly and making France freeze, afraid he'd pushed his boundaries too far, "Let's…let's move to the bedroom." His cheeks were flushed with more than arousal, but France's only reply was a smile and a small nod. Romano let his shoulders relax, grateful for the lack of fuss.

Taking France by the hand, he led the way to his bedroom. Linking their fingers like this seemed…right. Natural, even. With his free hand, France began to undo the buttons of his own shirt, leaving both men with their chests exposed as they fell into bed in a tangle of limbs and renewed kisses.

This time it was France who pulled back, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the line of Romano's jaw and the curve of his neck as he made his way down instead. Romano felt as if he were floating, his body warm and light, his mind freed from the usual cares. He knew his limits, and he was nowhere near drunk, but he might as well be for the way France made him feel. The Frenchman seemed to guess this effect, grinning against the Mediterranean nation's skin.

Romano gasped softly, his back arching into the warm lips brushing over his nipple. He knew France had experience, but he'd never expected him to be so gentle and attentive to every touch that sent shivers down the Italian's spine. He could feel a low rumble of pleased laughter as France kissed his way back up over Lovino's chest and neck.

"Spread your legs, mon cher," France murmured in his ear, a hint of laughter in his voice. Lovino shivered and hesitated for a moment, but then complied. France's slender fingers trailed up his thigh, dragging a low whine from Romano's lips. He dragged his fingertips lightly over the growing bulge in Romano's slacks, earning himself a gasp and a little buck.

His fingers trembling, Romano slipped his arms around France's neck and tangled on hand in his blond locks. The Frenchman moaned softly, his lips finding Romano's neck again. The Italian hummed encouragingly, shifting to press his knee between the blond's legs. France groaned, rutting against the pressure, and Romano gasped out a pleased, breathless laugh.

France wrapped him up in another consuming kiss in response, though their smiles made it sloppier than most would expect from either of them. Suddenly, Romano wanted France's hands everywhere, drawing every little gasp or whine from him. He pushed at the blond's shirt, managing to get the message across that he wanted the Frenchman naked. Grinning, France complied, breaking the kiss to admire Romano's flushed, panting form as he stripped.

"Lube?" he asked, his hands finding Romano's belt instead of his skin as he returned to his lover. Without a verbal response, Romano twisted to fish it out of a drawer beside the bed as France stripped him. He grabbed a condom too, knowing he wouldn't want to do too much cleanup after this. He was pleasantly buzzed and full of adrenaline, but when it wore off, he wouldn't want to move for a week.

Together, they stripped Romano's slacks and boxers, and the Italian quickly shrugged the shirt from his arms as well. France's eyes traveled hungrily over his exposed body, making him blush and squirm nervously.

"Beautiful," the blond repeated finally, his voice soft as he leaned in to kiss Romano again. The brunet whined against his lips, but his arms came up to embrace him instinctively.

France pried the lube from Romano's fingers, popping the cap to spread it over his own instead. One finger traced Romano's entrance lightly, drawing a pleading whine from the Italian's lips as he tried to push against it. France chuckled softly, finally kissing him again as he pressed his finger through the ring of muscle. Romano groaned against his lips; it had been a while since his last encounter.

France's touch was gentle, practically stroking his walls as his mouth distracted Romano from the discomfort. The second finger was almost as easy as the first, but the third drew a whimper of discomfort from the Italian. France shushed him softly, pecking his lips as his free hand pumped the brunet's aching length.

"A-ahh…" Romano gasped softly, breaking the kiss to turn his flushed face into the pillows. The Frenchman's blue eyes lit up at the reaction, and he carefully stroked that spot again. This time Romano whined, squirming and curling his toes.

"Mon Dieu, you are so cute," France breathed, sounding almost awed by the older Italian's responses.

"J-just…hurry the fuck up," Romano panted, peeking an eye open to glare at him. It wasn't much of a glare, really. If anything, France would have called it a heated look shot through his lashes.

"As you wish, mon ange," he replied lightly, though arousal made his tone lower than usual. Romano swallowed hard, wrapping his legs loosely around France's waist as the blond spread the lube on his own arousal. It wasn't too thick, which Romano was grateful for, but it was longer than the Italian had expected.

The Frenchman's clear, piercing blue eyes found Romano's hazel as he guided himself in, one hand on the Italian's hip while the other held his length steady. Romano groaned low in his throat, breaking eye contact as he let his head fall back against the pillows. His fingers tightened in the sheets and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but he could handle this discomfort.

"Merda…" he breathed out when France finally stopped. One shaking hand came up to wrap around the back of the blond's neck, pulling him down into another kiss to take his mind off the uncomfortable stretch. France wrapped him up in both arms as he returned the kiss, and when he broke it, it was only to press numerous kisses across Romano's neck and chest instead.

"Je suis désolé," he murmured against the flushed skin, his own voice thick and breathless, "Désolé, mon loup."

Lovino scoffed breathlessly at the apologies, rocking his hips against France's.

"Sposta." _Move_.

The blond curls bounced as France nodded quickly, pressing one last kiss to the Italian's lips. Sparks exploded through Romano as he began moving, quickly earning the Italian's moans and pants again. All Romano knew was the heat, the movement, and the comforting weight of the Frenchman as they moved together, completely intertwined. France was as affectionate in making love as he was when speaking, and Romano's moans were often cut off by sweet, needy kisses.

All the same, Romano wasn't sure he'd ever been in bed with someone as vocal as himself. France moaned and murmured pet names, his glazed, half-lidded eyes watching Romano's every reaction and learning what made him cry out. Romano swore loudly, especially when France tweaked a sensitive nipple or brushed his prostate.

"Nngh-ah! Close!" Romano whined between particularly expressive expletives, his back arching. France's eyes darted to his face, a hint of what might have been a smile on his lips. He pulled Romano close, the sweet nothings whispered in his ear completely at odds with the now-erratic thrusts.

A wordless cry left Romano's lips as he came, painting their stomachs with sticky white threads. France groaned against Romano's neck as the Italian clenched around him, pushing him over the edge mere moments later.

They collapsed side-by-side, chests heaving. France's arm slithered over Romano's stomach, settling there like a stone weight. The brunet didn't protest, but when he'd recovered enough to move again, he rolled over to curl up to France's side.

"You're washing the sheets in the morning," he informed the blond. France's only response was a chuckle that shook both of them, but then he fell silent again.

Wrapped in warmth and companionship, Romano began to let himself drift off. Whatever he'd said in the past, he could get used to the soft, sweet murmurs in his ear in a language that just escaped his understanding.

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><p>Romano woke in a cocoon of blankets and warmth to feel fingers running lightly through his hair. He groaned softly to let the other know he was awake, but otherwise simply pressed a little closer to…who was it again?<p>

He shifted a little to peek out of the blankets, his heartbeat stuttering at the sight of silky blond hair bright blue eyes. France's smile widened as he saw Romano look up at him, and the Frenchman leaned in to press a soft kiss to the Italian's forehead.

"Bon matin, mon cher," he greeted softly, his other hand gently squeezing Romano's under the covers, "Do you have a hangover?"

Romano went quiet for a moment, mentally assessing the state he was in. "No, just a headache," he replied finally, "I…and you?"

He was hesitant to ask about someone else's state, but he didn't want to just brush France off like he had always done. Something about the night before had changed something between them, and he wanted it to stay that way. The Frenchman's expression lit up at the question, and again, Romano wondered if the blond knew him better than he knew himself.

"I'm fine," France assured him, "You drank more than I did."

Romano groaned at the reminder and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow. The Frenchman's signature chuckle, softer this time, came from somewhere near his ear.

"Come on. It's almost noon," France murmured, "I'll make breakfast, we'll go out for a late lunch, and you can make dinner."

Romano mulled that over. That sounded…like the perfect way to spend the day. He rolled over to see France's face again, nodding in agreement. He watched with something like awe as the Frenchman's expression softened, and when France leaned down to kiss him, he didn't hesitate to return it.

"Get up when you're ready, ma biche," he told him, pushing himself up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Romano made a grab for his wrist.

"Did you just call me a girl?" he asked, raising a brow.

France looked back at him, surprised for a moment, before he laughed. "Non. The adjective has to agree with the noun, not your gender," he explained, turning his hand to squeeze Romano's gently, "I would suggest you get used to it, mon amour."

"Are you going to keep calling me pet names?" Romano asked next, still frowning slightly.

France just laughed, gently twisting his wrist out of the Italian's hold and grabbing boxers on his way to the kitchen. Romano wasn't sure if he should be thankful or disappointed.


End file.
